


Garage Fever

by TheBrideOfTheWind



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Kind of cheesy, M/M, Mostly pure fluff, a little bit angsty maybe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-07-12 17:58:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7116679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBrideOfTheWind/pseuds/TheBrideOfTheWind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy is a mechanic, Murphy's motorcycle breaks down a lot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The story was inspired by a real story I read in a magazine

“No, no, no, no, no!“ Murphy cried, tearing his hair out. “Oh no, not that! Fuck!” He gave his Harley an exasperated kick, causing it to topple over and land on the dusty road with a loud thud. 

This day was going great. He was already late cause his stupid alarm didn't go off. Again. Then his dog had decided to have his favourite pair of boots for breakfast. 

“What the fuck, Rocky?” The culprit had just looked at him with innocent eyes, wagging his tail happily. He could swear, he was smiling at him, the fucker. 

Following the incident he had delivered the dog to his neighbour Clarke, who was able to serve as his part-time dog sitter due to her night shifts at the hospital. He waved at her without casting another glance at Rocky, although he knew this was going to come back to bite him in some way, like it always was. 

Last but not least his motorcycle conked out on his way to university. The bike had belonged to his father, it was half nostalgia, half laziness he still kept the rusty thing. Quite frankly, he didn't have the heart to get rid of it. 

Judging by the terrifying noise it now emitted, there was not much hope left. Yet, throwing in the towel that easily was not part of Murphy's nature. So he grabbed the bike and made his way back to the only garage in town. 

It was a ratty little shop called “The Dropship”, owned by a girl named Raven Reyes. She was Finn's ex-girlfriend, Murphy and her were not exactly friends, having gotten in one or two shouting matches, because they were both quite outspoken and passionate about things, their tongues equally sharp. Nonetheless, he had never doubted her abilities. Entering the room he searched for her familiar brown ponytail, but was greeted by another, even more pleasant view instead. 

Jesus Christ, that man was gorgeous. Tall, dark and handsome. Topped by a face with soft brown eyes and full lips. His face and body were covered with freckles which only broadened the appeal. “Tall, dark and handsome” looked at him quizzically, then asked with a low voice: “Can I help you?” 

Note to self: Stop staring. Don't fall over your own feet. Try to act normal.

Murphy let his fingers run through his hair, trying to put on a cool façade. “I think my bike is fucked. Quit me half on my way to university in a sad attempt to sabotage my education.”

“I reckon education is a very valuable asset and hope we can help you with your problem. There's no bike, we can't fix,” the guy grinned, showing a row of perfectly white teeth. His name tag identified him as “B. Blake”. Bradley? Benedict? Basil? Bryan? Didn't sound right to him. But he's always had a thing for alliterations.

Murphy followed the man outside to his bike, not without noticing the way his oil-smeared t-shirt was clinging to his body, accentuating his broad shoulders and his lean, muscular figure.

Concentrate, you are staring again. When Blake crouched down to take a look at the motorcycle, he had to bring up all his will to avert his gaze from his backside. God, control yourself. 

The man was humming a little tune, his hands running over the machine expertly. Murphy couldn't help but be endeared. 

His eyes followed the slender fingers, mesmerized. At that moment the other got up again, looking straight into Murphy's eyes, forcing him to let out a nervous cough. “How bad is it?” he quavered. 

The look he was giving him didn't bode well for the future of his dear vehicle. Murphy gulped, his face contorting into a worried grimace. Then Blake laughed out loud, and put a soothing hand on his shoulder. “I told you, there's no bike, we can't fix,” he said with an innocent wink. 

The sarcastic remark on Murphy's tongue was interrupted by a female voice calling for “Bellamy”. A second later Raven stomped out of the shop, obviously annoyed. “Bellamy, I told you...” When she spotted Murphy, a large grin spread on her face.

“Do my eyes deceive me?” she called out, “John Murphy, what a lovely surprise.” She seemed to be taken aback by his lack of response, when she noticed the way they were standing a little too close to each other, the air filled with tension. 

“Stop distracting my employees, you dickhead!” she yelled and then proceeded to shove Murphy playfully, leaving him blushing and Bellamy with an amused expression on his face.

For a short moment he was tongue-tied. “Long time no see, Reyes,” he managed to get the words out, trying to sound casual. 

“Always a pleasure. I hope Bellamy was able to fulfil your wishes to your utmost satisfaction,” Raven replied, raising her eyebrows suggestively. He didn't even dare to peek at Bellamy, unaware that he studied him with curious eyes. 

“Um, listen, I better leave now. Hope it will be finished tomorrow,” Murphy stammered, then waved goodbye half-heartedly. Better try to leave the scene unceremoniously, without making a fool of himself any further. 

Raven blew him a kiss, followed by a high-pitched “going to miss you!” that caused him to stumble slightly. He could hear her laughter echoing till he rounded the next corner, finally choosing flight over fight.

By the time he reached his house, he was gasping for air, his lungs burning. All he wanted was to stay on his couch, order some double cheese pizza and watch a shitty movie to calm his nerves. Maybe he could ring Mbege, prompting him to bring some beer and chips.

With a groan he remembered that his dog was still with Clarke, most definitely in a huff and hating him. And an affronted Rocky wasn't exactly the kind of companion you wished for your friends. The last time he was chastised for chewing one of his boots, he tried to chew Finn's foot instead. After this he hadn't seen Finn for quite a while. 

So. Lonely night again. Hello darkness, my old friend.

 

The next morning he was rudely awakened by something wet on his face. Even worse, he was ripped from his dreams which didn't in any way, shape or form contain dark curls, brown eyes or freckles. Opening his eyes, Rocky greeted him, licking his face enthusiastically. At least he didn't hold a grudge for too long. 

Murphy patted his dog's head affectionately, then crawled out of bed and threw on his usual attire, a pair of black skinny jeans and a white t-shirt.

Shit, he was late again. However, this was not the only problem. He had to pick up his bike at “The Dropship”. And face Bellamy Blake again. Great.

Instead of being greeted by Bellamy, it was Raven who welcomed him by throwing the keys of his motorcycle into his face. "Not you again, asshole." 

“Good morning to you, too,” he chirped, batting his eyelashes at her.

“Your bike is ready. But Bellamy isn't here today, gladly. Cause I have no time to wipe the drool off your chin again.”

“I didn't-” 

“Of course,” she interrupted him. “It's in the back. So hush. Get your ass out of here, I have some work to do.” 

“Is it OK now? You managed to fix it?” Murphy asked, a hopeful tone in his voice.

“We did what we could, with the material you provided. And if you're not happy, feel free to look for another mechanic next time.” 

“But this is the only garage in Arkadia,” he whined, making his way to the door grumpily.

“And the best!” Raven yelled after him. And the only one with Bellamy Blake, he thought. Though you are never going to see him again. With a nagging feeling of discontent he fetched his bike and left.

 

For a whole week everything went perfectly fine. Then his bike broke down again. Half on his way to “The Dropship” it started to drizzle, by the time he reached the garage, the rain was pouring. His t-shirt was soaked through, being glued to his body, wet strands of hair sticking to his face. 

Excellent timing again. How to make a long lasting impression on your crush. By looking like a drowned rat. A story by John Murphy.

He was shivering now, his whole body shaking uncontrollably despite the mild summer air outside. When he walked in the shop, Raven was nowhere to be seen. Bellamy emerged from behind a shelf, his gaze lingering on Murphy, then he disappeared quickly. He returned with a towel and a t-shirt that looked far too big for Murphy's own small frame. 

“Take this, it's one of my spare shirts, sometimes I get a little bit dirty...” Bellamy trailed off, gazing at him intensely. Did he just. No, he must be imagining things. 

For sure he was imagining the way Bellamy was watching him closely while he changed his shirt, too. Maybe it was just wishful thinking on his side. He had known enough guys that had sent him mixed signals, no need to overstate a single action. Who even knew if the guy was into dudes anyway. Screw it.

So he thanked him politely and promised to bring his shirt back as soon as possible. He thought he noticed a little bit of disappointment shine through Bellamy's smile. Maybe he was thinking too much.

When he collected his bike, Raven scolded him for not taking care of it properly. As if it was his fault. That thing had seen better days.

“You need to treat her like a lady,” she told him. 

“Um, I don't know if you're talking to the right person for this...”

“God knows. Just try to be a gentleman then. Go easy on her,” Raven rolled her eyes at him.

“Not sure if I know how to do that either. But I'll give my best.” 

He made an effort to follow her advice. Driving slower than usual. Taking more breaks. Checking the machine every evening.

 

However, he found himself at “The Dropship's” doorstep faster than expected. Bellamy was standing behind the counter, grinning like a Cheshire cat. 

“You know, you could have come over to visit, if you missed me that much. Or called. Or wrote a letter.” 

“Haha, the laugh is always on the loser, isn't it.” Murphy gave him a scowl. 

“Should have gotten rid of this crap when I had the chance to. Now I'm spending more time in your shop than actually on the road,” he shouted out in frustration. 

Bellamy remained unfazed by his outburst, leaning on his elbows and narrowing his eyes at him. He looked particularly cute. How was it possible to look cute, squinting at someone. That was not fair. 

“Could give you a discount if you like. Just don't tell Raven. You are one of our best clients these days. And you're kinda charming. In a weird way.” 

He must be kidding him. That was one of the most confusing compliments he had ever received in his life. He couldn't tell if the other was mocking him or if it was his clumsy attempt at flirting. 

“Wow, I'm flattered,” Murphy retorted, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I could just buy a new one eventually. Or take the bus. Or find myself someone with a car who can drive me everywhere,”, he supplied, giving Bellamy a provocative look.

“To be honest, I'm starting to question your abilities, are you sure you're a real mechanic anyway?” he taunted him, now in full attack mode.

“Oh, now I'm wounded,” Bellamy proclaimed, clutching his heart in a mocking way. “Maybe I just enjoy your pleasant company. Wait, I must have mistaken you for another customer. At least concerning the pleasure of your company. So, never mind.” 

How did he dare. “Is this so?” Murphy asked, glowering at Bellamy. He tugged the shirt he wanted to give back to him from the backpack slung over his shoulder, flinging it at him without a word. Before Bellamy had any chance to react, he had already stormed outside, slamming the door angrily.

He knew he was being childish, yet he couldn't quite put his finger on why Bellamy was getting under his skin. Lashing out was his preferred defence mechanism, but he knew the guy only for a few weeks, why was it so important what he thought of him anyway. Just because of his pretty face? 

His thoughts were interrupted by a deep voice suddenly. “Hey, I was just joking. Sorry. Didn't mean to step on your toes,” Bellamy uttered, catching up with him. His chest was heaving as he struggled to catch his breath due to the short jog. 

Murphy pondered for a while, his resistance crumbling with every second that passed. “No offence taken. I can be challenging sometimes, too.” 

“Hope you don't think, I'm a total prick now,” Bellamy added, looking crestfallen.

“Certainly not. Maybe a little bit. Hey, can I ask you another question, do you know a good mechanic in town?” Murphy said, eyes twinkling. Then he continued on his way, leaving Bellamy behind. 

“Hey, wait! What are you doing?” he called after him. 

“Questioning my life choices.” Murphy mumbled. He heard Bellamy chuckle. “I can give you a ride if you like.”

The idea of riding a motorcycle with Bellamy, his body pressed against him, was quite entrancing, he had to admit, but not very conducive to his own sanity. He dwelled on the thought for a second, then said with a smile and a short glance over his shoulder: “Thanks, but I'll politely decline. Cause if your driving skills are as good as your repair skills, better not take the risk.” After that he walked away, ignoring Bellamy's obvious cries of protest.

 

Sadly Bellamy wasn't at the shop when he got there the other day and Raven wasn't too pleased to see him again.

“Are you doing this on purpose?” she muttered, eyeing him intently. “You seem to be here suspiciously often these days.”

“Hey, you've got me there. I was faking the whole time. Spending my money. Just to come here day by day. You're right. I'm that desperate.” Murphy replied with an exaggerated sigh, raising his hands in defeat.

“I was just taking the piss out off you. But thanks for the insight.” Raven smirked at him knowingly.

“Should I give Bellamy your number?” she kept going, “you could save some money. And time.” 

“You are not doing anything. Just leave me alone, Raven,” he grumbled, his cheeks reddening slightly. 

“Are you blushing? That's cute,” she continued teasing him. “It's safe to say that you are his favourite customer-”

“Just give me the damn keys, Raven.”


	2. Chapter 2

He was on his way to take out the trash a few days later, when he spotted a familiar mop of curly hair at Clarke's front garden. Shit, he thought, ducking and hiding behind the hedge in front of his own house, which wasn’t trimmed fortunately. Sometimes his laziness was good for something. 

After their latest encounter at the garage he was keen to meet Bellamy again, but not now. This wasn't the right time and place. He wasn't prepared for this. 

Nonetheless, his curiosity was stronger. Peering through the leaves, he saw Clarke come into sight and pull Bellamy into a tight embrace. He then observed her talking to him animatedly, Bellamy watching her with a fond look on his face. Ugh. You shouldn't have gotten your hopes up. 

He sighed, trying to disappear quietly before someone discovered him, hiding and peeping through the bushes like a total creep, when he heard the soft plodding of dog paws. Not again. This dog was going to be his ruin. He gestured towards the open door, but Rocky moved on towards the next house, seemingly unimpressed. Murphy closed his eyes, waiting for the shoe to drop. 

A second later the sound of laughter broke the silence. Clarke was shouting his name between uncontrollable cackles. He rose with as much dignity one could muster, appearing behind a bush with leaves in his hair.

Right in front of him was a horrific sight. Clarke was holding her stomach, still roaring with laughter, while Rocky apparently thought that humping Bellamy's leg would be the most civil way to introduce himself. 

“Is this your dog?” Bellamy smirked, eyes dancing with mischief. “I guess he likes me.”

Murphy wanted to curl up and die. He wanted to dig himself a hole and bury himself in it. He wanted to vanish from the face of the earth and never be seen again. 

He could feel a blush rise in his cheeks and just stood there, mouth agape, unable to form a proper sentence. 

“I, I, I'm sorry. I don't, I don't know, what got into him. I'm mentally signing the adoption papers, at this very moment.“ Bellamy snickered and Clarke looked quizzically between the two of them. “So you know each other?”

“Er, not exactly. He had the courtesy to repair my bike two, no three times. But ah, he gets paid for it, doesn't he,” Murphy brushed it off, registering an uncomfortable twist in his stomach after the words had left his mouth. At that statement Bellamy's face fell, resulting in a more guarded expression.

Murphy sensed his gaze on him, beginning to feel feverish. Pretty sure he had turned purple by now. Thanks to his light skin, there was no way to hide his embarrassment. 

“Come over and have dinner with us,” Clarke suggested in her usual obliviousness. Sweat was dripping from his neck now, his head beginning to feel light and kind of dizzy. 

No matter how much he liked Clarke and Bellamy separately, he didn’t have the heart to spend an evening together with them, third-wheeling. So he fabricated the lamest excuse he could possibly think of and mumbled about having to study for an important exam.  
And then, without giving them a moment to protest, he proceeded to withdraw himself, motioning Rocky to follow him, leaving Clarke and Bellamy behind stunned.

“Why are you such a pain in the ass all the time,” he groaned, plumping down on the sofa and covering his face with his hands. “What have I done to deserve this.” 

He indulged in the memory of the way Bellamy's eyes had crinkled, when he had smiled at him, warm and bright. He was in too deep. Ultimately, it was for the best this didn't go any further. He had been a fool to believe someone like Bellamy would actually like him. 

The world ain’t all sunshine and rainbows, Murphy.

 

When his bike bit the dust again a week later, he took the bus to university and got out of his way to avoid Bellamy and especially any close proximity to “The Dropship”. He still dropped off Rocky at Clarke's, yet he was always in a hurry, giving her no chance to talk to him.

Raven tried to call him a few times, but he deleted all of her messages on his mailbox without listening to them.

At home he was moping, not even answering Mbege's phone calls, which resulted in the other boy appearing on his doorstep with a movie and two beers in his hands one day. He had hugged him wordlessly, then asked, flexing his biceps: “Should I punch the guy for you? Just tell me. I've got your back.” 

This had raised a smile in Murphy's face, though he had to decline the offer politely.

“Thank you, man. But can we not talk about it any further? I may get your hoodie wet otherwise.” Mbege gave his arm an encouraging squeeze, opening the beers and handing one bottle over to him.

Two hours and several whiskys later, he caught Murphy climbing on the living room table. On top he opened his arms theatrically and yelled: “I'm the king of the world!” He lost his balance suddenly and began to totter, though Mbege managed to prevent the worst by grabbing his hip in an attempt to steady him. Murphy knocked over his own glass of whisky anyway, the content spilling all over the sofa and on the wooden floor.

Another hour later, there was still a puddle of golden liquid in front of the table. Mbege hoped it was still whisky, too. “I'm in a glass case of emotion!” Murphy screamed at the top of his lungs, thumping his glass on the table. 

“You, you know, he's quite beautiful and charmin...aaaand he's funny too,” he slurred, a dreamy look on his face. “But you know, you know what else, he's quite straight, too. It's, it's a, a pity.”

“Maybe you just misunderstood? They weren't kissing, or were they?” His friend objected.

“Noooooo, they weren'. But they were aaaaall lovey-dovey, it was disgustin, let me tell you.”

“How about you lie down a little bit, I think you've had enough,” Mbege said, trying to guide him towards his bedroom gently, Murphy making it extremely difficult by wrapping himself around him like a koala. He protested again, when the other boy attempted to carry him.

“Noooooooooo, I am fiiiiine. Let go of me, I can handle myself jus fine,” he babbled, staggering back to the sofa and taking another large gulp from the whisky bottle.

Mbege chuckled. “I figured.” He disappeared, returning with a bucket and a glass of water. Murphy was lying on the couch, snoring softly. He rolled him on his side and put a cushion under his head and in his back to stabilize him. Then he threw a blanket over him, tucking it under his feet.  
Murphy remained asleep through all of this, but it piqued Rocky's interest who jumped on the couch and snuggled up to his owner. His left eye stayed half open, fixating the boy who was still in front of them. “Better keep an eye on him,” Mbege whispered with one last glance at the two. 

 

The morning after Murphy woke up on his couch, when the door bell rang. The noise was definitely too loud and shrill for the state he was in. The bright daylight didn't help either. God, what did he drink. He struggled to get up, his back hurting from being curled up all night. By the time he made it to the door finally, the visitor was gone. There was an invitation for Clarke's birthday on his doorstep, a pinned note with “you can bring Rocky, too ;-)” on it. 

He spent the next days going back and forth on whether to attend or not. In a moment of weakness he decided that an evening full of free food and booze wasn't the worst thing, when all he had to do was to ignore Bellamy Blake. After all, ignoring people was a talent he had been cultivating for years. 

So he found himself on Clarke's doorstep on Saturday, a bottle of whisky and a bouquet of self-picked flowers, he stole from his neighbour's garden, in his hand. He had left Rocky at home, since he didn't plan to stay any longer than necessary.

The door was opened by Finn who gave him a warm hug, and took the bottle and the flowers from his hands quickly. How thoughtful of him.

Murphy's eyes scanned the room and discovered Clarke, Bellamy and another dark-haired girl sitting together in close space. “Perfect,” he groaned softly.

He caught a glimpse of Raven, begging him over to join her and Finn with an impatient motion of her hand. When he didn't respond, she addressed him with a loud “Murphy”, drawing the attention of the whole room on him. Bellamy's head snapped up too and he was walking towards him, a beaming smile on his face. Oh no.

He looked fabulous, wearing a tight jeans and a dark blue henley. In the short time Bellamy needed to reach him, Murphy considered his options. He rejected the idea of hiding himself in the bathroom or faking an illness and just waited. Faking a smile wasn't that hard after all.

By the time Bellamy had crossed the room, he had lost his composure though, his head throbbing and his heart beat pounding in his ears. Bellamy was still smiling bright at him, radiating sunshine and warmth. “Blinded by the lights” was playing in his head. 

“Hey, I haven't seen you over for some time. Your bike still fine?” Bellamy began to talk, looking kind of nervous. Murphy blinked, in an attempt to appear indifferent. He shrugged, adding a frosty “Shouldn't you be with your girlfriend?”, before it dawned on him what he just said. 

Oh God. Sometimes he should think before he talked. But it was too late. The damage was done.

Bellamy gaped at him, wide-eyed. “My girlfriend? Well, O is my sister,” he answered confused, looking over at the dark-haired girl Murphy had noticed earlier.

“And Clarke has been my best friend for ages. We have known each other since kindergarten. And I'm not exactly her type,” he ended, gesturing to the corner where Clarke was standing, a beautiful brunette girl on her arm. 

“Must suck to be in love with her then.” He was being hurtful on purpose now, trying to get a rise out of Bellamy. Maybe he could piss him off so much, he would leave him alone forever.

Surprisingly, Bellamy seemed more amused than angry, not backing off in the slightest.  
“Guess what,” he whispered instead, leaning into him closely, breath hot on his ear, “she's not my type either.” He then licked his lips, his eyes wandering over Murphy's body, causing the latter to nearly choke on his own spit.

“And I knew that I liked you the day you walked in the shop. And the day you walked in the shop again, in all your wet glory. And your little temper tantrum,” he continued, brown eyes piercing into Murphy's blue ones. 

“That was not my finest hour...” Murphy concurred.

“And maybe, just maybe I was a little bit sloppy in repairing your bike...” Bellamy finished, a smirk playing around his lips. Murphy took in a deep breath. This little shit. Maybe this party wasn't going to be a total failure after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. This was supposed to be shorter, but got out of hand a little bit. I hope you like it :-)


End file.
